Paradigm
by KaylaisEvenstar
Summary: Working out the paradox of how to make two bitter enemies with radically opposing views fall in love with each other.
1. Chapter 1

**Harry states he will not return to Hogwarts in the Sixth Book. This fan fiction follows that vein of possibility; and asks the question; 'What if Harry Potter really **_**is**_** a Horcrux and Neville actually was the prophecy child instead of Harry?'**

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_**par·a·digm**__ par-_uh_-dahym,pār'ə-dīm', -dĭm' _

_-noun_

_**1. Grammar.**_

_a. a set of forms all of which contain a particular element, esp. the set of all inflected forms based on a single stem or theme. _

_b. a display in fixed arrangement of such a set, as boy, boy's, boys, boys'._

_2. an example serving as a model; pattern._

_3. A set or list of all the inflectional forms of a word or of one of its grammatical categories: the paradigm of an irregular verb. _

_4. __**A set of assumptions, concepts, values, and practices that constitutes a way of viewing reality for the community that shares them, especially in an intellectual discipline. **_

_(Middle English, example, from Late Latin paradīgma, from Greek paradeigma, from paradeiknunai, to compare : para-, alongside; see para-__1 + deiknunai, to show; see deik- in Indo-European roots. --Excerpted from American Heritage Dictionary)_

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_**Eros**__ is passionate love, with sensual desire and longing. The Modern Greek word "erotas" means "(romantic) love". However, Eros does not have to be sexual in nature. Eros can be interpreted as a love for someone who you love more than the philia love of friendship. It can also apply to dating relationships as well as marriage. Plato refined his own definition. Although eros is initially felt for a person, with contemplation it becomes an appreciation of the beauty within that person, or even becomes appreciation of beauty itself. It should be noted Plato does not talk of physical attraction as a necessary part of love, hence the use of the word platonic to mean, "without physical attraction". Plato also said Eros helps the soul recall knowledge of beauty, and contributes to an understanding of spiritual truth. Lovers and philosophers are all inspired to seek truth by eros. The most famous ancient work on the subject of eros is Plato's Symposium, which is a discussion among the students of Socrates on the nature of eros. --Excerpted from Wikipedia_

_**Philia**__ (phil'eda) means friendship in modern Greek, a dispassionate virtuous love, was a concept developed by Aristotle. It includes loyalty to friends, family, and community, and requires virtue, equality and familiarity. In ancient texts, philia denoted a general type of love, used for love between family, between friends, a desire or enjoyment of an activity, as well as between lovers. This is the only other word for "love" used in the ancient text of the New Testament besides agape, but even then it is used substantially less frequently --Excerpted from Wikipedia _

**Prologue**

**A** light wind blew in through the open window. It scattered the papers that littered all the available surfaces of the room and sent them flying to the floor; most of the parchment sheets were only half-written; spouting guess work and notes in partially illegible writing that had been scratched out, written over, and scratched out again. An ongoing theme on each of them was that every once in a while the word _cup_ would appear, along with differing location names.

A small bed lay situated in the corner of the modest room; on it lay a young redheaded boy who was sleeping and occasionally muttering words or phrases such as, _"No, mum, don't make me eat the spiders when they're dipped in butter...". _Every once in awhile, a frizzy-haired witch sitting at a small desk in the opposite corner threw a crumpled piece of parchment at his head when his muttered phrases grew too loud.

A clock laying on a small bedside table read '2:57 A.M.' and splayed over top of it, partially obscuring the last digit lay a discarded Chudley Cannons shirt; on top of which a wand was precariously placed. As the noisy boy tossed in his bed from time to time, a small _crackle_ could be heard, presumably from one of the many chocolate frog wrappers littering the bed.

A soft sigh sounded from the area of the open window, where a petite boy with black hair and black-rimmed glasses sat perched with his head propped up on his hand. The moon shone brightly through the window and cast an eerie glow about the room which contrasted with the soft glow from a _lumos_ spell that the girl had cast. The combined effect created shadows that slanted in two different directions.

The mournful sound of a cat mewling suddenly sounded from underneath the bed, although the noise was more reminiscent of a dying cow than a feline. The boy with the untidy hair glared at the figure within the shadowed depths underneath the bed, hissing softly in annoyance, to which the frizzy haired girl looked up and gave a disapproving look. His bright green eyes widened at having been caught and a sheepish look crossed his features. The girl just rolled her eyes and went back to her scribbling.

An owl hooted from somewhere outside in the distance and the sound of crickets floated in; their call permeated the room with a hushed, mesmerising melody. The boy on the bed snorted suddenly in his sleep and rolled over, kicking the covers off of himself in the process. It was a warm and sticky summer night where even the breeze was warm - albeit pleasantly so- and the freckled wizard obviously did not lament the loss of his coverings.

It was not long afterwards that a snowy white owl - presumably, the very same that had hooted earlier - flew in through the window. It flew at the girl with bushy hair and alighted onto the papers, where it smeared the freshly written ink and sent yet another batch flying along with the ink bottle. The witch shrieked and shooed the bird away with her hands; it hooted angrily and nipped her finger harshly before flying over to the green-eyed boy on whose shoulder it landed.

The girl spun in her seat and huffed. She glared at the owl and the black-haired boy did an imitation of the girls earlier look of disapproval, which made her hands up and mouth "_Well!"_. She got up and turned towards the door of the room and made her way out of it.

The boy on the sill glanced at the still-sleeping redhead and shook his head. He petted the owl atop his shoulder and stuck a finger under her claws, stood up, and placed her owl on the windowsill where he had sat. He made his way to the door the young lady had exited; floorboards creaked beneath his feet as he left the room as well. He shut the door behind himself and turned left down the hallway, which branched in two directions.

The room he had left his friend in was only three paces from the stairs, which creaked even more under his weight than the floorboards had; out of mild curiosity he counted the steps and found that there were eleven. He glanced at the front door as a noise sounded near it, but concluded it was just another of those 'old house' noises, in which case he made a sharp left around the corner to where the kitchen was.

He walked inside and heard bottles clinking as well as an occasional _swoosh_; as he rounded yet another corner where the stove and sink he noticed that light from the open fridge door spilt onto floor. It cast a yellow glow over the floor tiles in the darkened room as a rubbish bin propped the door open. A girl was bent over inside and was rummaging through; occasionally she grabbed something and tossing them into the aforementioned bin.

She looked up as the bespectacled boy bumped into a chair in the dark and said, "Honestly, Harry! Can't you and Ron ever clean out the fridge or buy new food by yourselves once in awhile?"

He grinned and shot back, "Well, 'Mione, maybe if instead of studying for days on end you actually took time once in awhile to eat with us, we might feel more inclined to keep it tidier."

The witch in question huffed.

"That is just an excuse and you know it."

Harry smiled cheekily. He showed his teeth slightly-too-much and made no comment on her observation.

He moved forward and brushed up against her side and stared into the fridge as well; there was little in it. The most substantial quantity of food appeared to be a cereal box and doubtless Ron had put it in there by accident; Hermione reached in again to pluck out a half-eaten pot of jelly and two mostly gone bowls of chocolate pudding.

The black-haired youth, who was more of a young man than a boy, reached forward to grab the carton of milk in the fridge. He gave it an experimental shake and a sniff and found that it smelled alright. There was also about half left, although his friend glanced at him out of the corner of her eye to give the milk a dubious look that Harry failed to notice as he grabbed the cereal as well. He walked over to the cabinet to fetch a bowl and spoon before plonking himself down at the table.

"You're not going to _eat_ that, are you?"

"Why not?" He replied, "It smells just fine."

"It's four days past date!" Hermione practically hissed, but the other teenager chose to ignore her in favour of making himself a late snack.

Her mouth thinned at his obvious brush off, but she ploughed on.

"And besides! It'll spoil your sleep. You _do_ intend to sleep, don't you? You can't exactly hunt for Horcruxes if you're never getting any sleep!"

"For one thing, cereal is light on the stomach and milk aids in sleep; I would think you'd know that, and you don't sleep either, so you're one to talk!" He glowered. "And besides, we're not exactly getting anywhere with the Horcruxes. We've been looking for _months_, 'Mione, the moment Bill and Fleur's wedding was over you were looking into it. In fact, if I recall correctly, you seemed to have been glancing down from time to time throughout the entire ceremony and I'm fairly sure I saw two books stashed under your chair along with a self-inking quill and parchment."

His imperious tone made her bristle.

"Well, that's no reason to just _give_ up! Aren't you the one who said, '_Oh Hermione, I'm going off to kill Voldemort and find the Horcruxes, please don't forget me!' _all hero-like last year, and what now you just want to sit and watch muggle television and eat...eat... _old cereal_ all day?!"

Her voice rose to a screech and Harry stared at her. His spoon hung from his open mouth before it fell out and clattered on the table to splatter the small amount of milk and cereal that had been on it.

"I didn't say I was giving up!" Was his fierce answer. "I just meant that it's not like we're getting anywhere. It's just…well, it is a bit disheartening that it's taking so long. There's no need to obsess over sleep like I'm facing him tomorrow! "

"You could very well be!" She shrieked without stop. "He is more active than ever and it's not like this is a very safe place to be staying at - honestly, Harry, I'm surprised he hasn't looked here sooner!"

The bespectacled wizard glared and spat back, "It's obviousness is the entire point, isn't that what you said? He wouldn't expect us to be hiding in plain sight and it was your idea that we stay here to begin with, I only wanted to visit my mum and dad's graves, _excuse me_ if you that's not appropriate to you!"

He slammed his hands down on the table and stood up; turning around abruptly he started striding off. He was halfway to the door when Ron appeared at the base of the steps with bleary eyes and a great big yawn.

"Eh mate, what in the ruddy 'ell is going on in here?" he yawned out, rubbing his face.

"Nothing," Harry hissed. He sprinted up the stairs and ran into the second room from the landing where he slammed his door shut behind him.

The freckled boy stared after him with a bewildered look before glancing over at the fridge where Hermione stood bracing herself against the appliance; unshed tears glinted in her eyes on her crestfallen face.

"...Did I miss something?" He asked quietly.

The witch glowered at him and hissed acidly, "No Ron, you didn't miss anything more than you usually do!"

She too ran to the stairs and up the landing to slam the third door from the stairs; Ron stared after with wide eyes for a minute before he shrugged and headed over to the fridge. He pulled out a half eaten tin of smelly kippers that the girl had missed.

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Harry awoke the sound of screaming and a loud _thud; _the light shining in from the window was minimal and it appeared to be nearing nightfall already. He grabbed his wand from beneath his pillow and sprung to his feet. He opened his door carefully and peering around the corner with immense caution; his heart thudded in his chest.

_Had Voldemort finally found them? _

He padded silently down the hall, glancing left and right as he made his way; quietly creeping downstairs he checked the front door to see if anything was amiss. It was closed and locked but to him that meant little so he continued to sneak about; rounding the corner into the kitchen he was as silent as possible until he raised his eyebrows at the sight that greeted him.

Hermione stood over a prostrate Ron, who had what looked like eggs and flour spattered all over himself, and a mixing bowl lay on the floor next to his head. The girl was red in the face, and as she had been last night, screaming.

"_WHY_ is there a note from Lavender on the table? We're not supposed to be getting any owls, you'll blow our cover!"

The redhead paled and replied hastily, "I haven't been talking with her, how should I know?"

The witch glowered and stomped off to the fridge to pull out what looked like new food that she had probably gone out and bought. She grabbed more eggs, vinegar, and some milk before slamming them down on the table; flour and other essentials were already out on it so she snatched them up as well as the fallen bowl. A quick Scourgify on it and Ron and she placed the bowl next to the eggs to resume making a batch of pancakes.

Harry walked up to where she was now stirring ingredients furiously. The mixture splashed up over the sides and onto the girl and the counter. He hesitantly placed a hand on her shoulder, which tensed before she let out an angry breath. The bespectacled teenager decided, for once, to be the voice of reason; enough was enough.

"It seems like the stress of this is getting to all of us," he said, "But that's no reason to constantly be at each other's throats and push ourselves beyond our limits. 'Mione, maybe you should take a break from research for awhile--"

She gave him a horrified look.

"--I'm not saying not to! Just take it easier, go a little slower; let me and Ron help more. You've been shunting the books away in your room, and shutting us out. Being here together won't do us any good if we aren't even getting along, it'll just make it easier for Voldemort to get to us. If we can't stop arguing, then maybe it's time I go and do this on my own."

The witch dropped the mixing spoon into the bowl where it disappeared into the batter. She spun around, and hugged her friend, burying her face in his chest. He wrapped his arms around her shaking shoulders as she sobbed.

"Oh, Harry; I'm sorry! I just... I _need_ to figure this out... I don't want you to die! I don't want any of us to die, I just want this to be---"

"I know" he said, "So do I."

He felt Ron stand up, where he stood awkwardly behind them, shifting from foot to foot; and Harry could nearly feel the holes being glared into his back, so he pulled away from Hermione and gave the red-head a bemused look before he patted Hermione on the shoulder and smiled gently. He then walked over to the cupboard, pulling out a pack of muggle goldfish; Ron gave the packet's name a faintly frightened look as Harry walked by, leaving the two in the kitchen alone as he crossed into the adjacent living room and flicked on the television.

Ron glanced at Hermione unsurely, once again shifting feet before he said,

"Ah…yeah, what Harry said."

And Hermione just shook her head, a tired grin showing before she went back to mixing her pancakes. Ron smiled nervously and nodded to her stiffly, before he darted off to the living room; he sat down next to Harry and plucked the remote out of the raven-haired youth's hand. He began pressing the buttons randomly, and the sound went up high as the channels switched fast; the mute randomly flicking off and on.

Harry snatched the remote back as he said, "Ron! I've showed you this enough times by now to remember it," and gestured to the remote as he hit the proper buttons and flicked it to a channel, "this is how a remote works!"

Ron just gave him a confused look as he said, "But where's the fun in that?"

Harry gave him an exasperated look, and silence reigned between the boys for a few minutes as they watched the programme.

And then, "Oi, Harry, D'you think I could _Wingardium Leviosa_ the milk from here?"

Harry glanced over at Ron.

"No."

**TBC...**

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**After Notes - **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and I make no money off this work of fan fiction.**

**Beta: MaddevilleChilde, DarkAngel35**

**This is a re-post, I deleted this in a fit of pique after an argument with a christian I know over how writing this sending me to hell, then realized I was only letting them win.**

**This a pet project of mine. I'm trying to create a situation based on plausibly possible alternate avenues in canon that would lead to an at least semi-believeable Harry/Voldemort pairing. Don't expect the slash for a really long time. First I need to get Harry to drift away from Ron and Hermione, as there is just no way they would support such a pairing and would inevitably keep him from going **_**somewhat **_**dark (Or so I personally believe).**

**For this chapter, I'm basing Hermione's moodiness on how she was in the Third book when she was using the Time-Turner. I think, in a situation where she is over-extended, she would be likely to respond in much the same manner.**

**Well, let me know what you think and feel free to poke at this - my goal is to make this as plausible is possible. Of course, obviously with the HPLV pairing it could never be fully plausible, but still.**

**And if you flame rather than constructively criticize depending on my mood I will either delete it, laugh hilariously at the fact that your mother dropped you on your head too much as a child and your daddy never loved you, or even - depending on how brainless you are- post your review up somewhere, rip it apart, and make fun of you, pointing out to anyone who comes across it what an idiot you are. ****I will assume the goal is not to help correct a problem, but simply to make yourself feel better about your own unhappy life. I will not stop writing just because you are a jerk. **

**Any other reviews will be greatly appreciated, and possibly glomped -- especially if you point out something I missed and help me improve my writing! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me, and I make no money off this work of fan fiction.**

**Warnings: Harry/Voldemort slash in much later chapters; mentions of torture.**

**Beta: MaddevilleChilde; DarkAngel35 - both of whom also Betaed the last chapter.**

**Chapter One**

The rain drizzled lightly on Godric's Hollow, where a light breeze blew by and made the pouring water slant sideways. The downpour got heavier as day dragged into night and the storm was blown across the land. It went further and farther until many hours and many miles later it reached a castle atop a rugged crag that overlooked an enraged grey ocean; to the naked Muggle eye it was no more than a wobbly ruin but for a few cold splats that every once in awhile could be seen bouncing off the age-old cloaking enchantments.

The heavens had veritably burst and mercilessly drenched all; thunder occasionally rolled across the coast to catch an errant animal and stoic tree. A roly-poly rat that was hapless and soaked was one of the many living things wandering through the storm. It scurried to and fro in a desperate search for shelter and came to the dangerous ruin, which it ran headlong into. It stared in pitiful bewilderment for a moment before scrabbling desperately against the rough and unforgiving stone in a futile attempt to pass the magic and find safety; with an almighty _clap_ the thunder drummed against the cliffs. A bolt of light soon shook the ground as it claimed another helpless victim; drenched and split open, the charred rat temporarily wafted tendrils of black smoke before the rain doused him quickly.

The smell was still enough, however, to attract a nearby opportunist that was hiding within the ruined gatehouse; skittish as it was it slunk down to investigate against its better instincts. A second loud crash sent the startled creature clambering up a ruined wall and into the rest of the magically restored tower where it ended up standing in a dark lobby. There were voices being carried through a door ahead and the spider took care to avoid the heavy wood as it skirted around into the Great Hall to where it could sense food.

The slightly furry arachnid was sent tumbling however as the door in question was thrown open violently by a cloaked human who fell out of the next room. The person was writhing for a time before he stopped and managed to walk back in to bow before a figure that sat on a dais; as he was murmuring his apologies for speaking out of turn, the spider righted itself and scurried off into the relative safety of a nearby gap between the stones in the wall.

It was a regal figure who glared coldly at his hooded followers from his place in the Great Hall. The castle had been built by a medieval descendant of Salazar Slytherin whose fortress of a home had been left to decay for century after century until Lord Voldemort had realised the strategic positioning of the coastal ruin. He had restored the great gatehouse to what it had been and was now sitting in a chair that vaguely resembled a throne at the head of the huge stone room. A fifteen foot serpent lay draped across the back of it as she lazily flicked her forked tongue out every now and then.

"Severus!"

The emotionless command brought a black clad Death Eater to the fore; like his Lord he showed no feeling in his beady black eyes. He had lost the right to hide his face some months before.

_"CRUCIO!"_ Voldemort hissed out; his scarlet eyes were alight with twisted mirth.

The Potions Master fell to the floor where he twisted and twitched without stop as the serpentine wizard did not release him until he had wrung a scream from the stubborn man; Snape remained on the floor for several long moments after the spell had ended. The Dark Lord stared down at him coldly with an impassive face all the while.

As soon as the former teacher found his shaky feet again the other wizard gestured to the gaunt witch at his side. She kicked Snape in the stomach and sent him crashing to ground again. The Death Eaters who encircled the three laughed; some had frightened faces, however, whilst others were gleeful. It had been some time since the man had transgressed, but his 'lessons' had not ceased and would not until Voldemort tired of playing with him.

The chamber was cold and made of stone like the nearby tower that served as a dungeon; there was no decoration except for an occasional sconce to light the hall as it only had one small window. The Dark Lord had redesigned it be very similar to the Chamber of Secrets; because of him there were delicate but nevertheless detailed carvings of snakes twisted around the few columns that supported the roof. The throne he sat on was lined in much the same way, and although he said it at every gathering, he repeated himself for the umpteenth time.

"Remember," Voldemort intoned, "should you choose to disobey me, you will suffer the same fate!"

He paused to let his words sink in as he always did.

"Yaxley! Remove him from my sight!"

The greasy wizard was grabbed by the scruff of his neck and dragged from the Great Hall; Yaxley led him down a staircase and out of a small side door in order to propel him through a corridor that had been cut into the curtain wall. It led to the tower next door that served as a prison and dungeon. He shuddered at the thought that the desiccated corpse of Narcissa Malfoy would be there to greet him but he was nevertheless relieved that the Dark Lord had granted her a swift death. He had killed the woman with a mercifully muttered Killing curse that proved that he was not entirely heartless after all. A woman protecting her child did not deserve that same harsh fate as a man who disobeyed without such a cause.

After Snape had been dragged off, the Dark Lord snorted to himself as Lestrange eyed him warily. He glanced into her mind and read her thoughts easily to find that she was uneasy over her part in the fiasco that Snape and the Malfoy boy had caused. He snorted again and knew that she had every right to feel afraid. She was loyal and always had been and that inclined Voldemort to allow her a degree of leniency, but even so, his courtesy only extended so far; despite being his favourite, he could not overlook her two previous failures. She would have to be punished at some point.

He decided though that he would permit her to languish in her uncertainty for the time being for it was better to leave her waiting in fear for a time; that itself was a form of punishment.

The anticipation.

As for the young Malfoy, he would be lenient. The boy was young and someone had to continue the Malfoy line. He was also malleable so he decided against killing him and opted instead for locking him away in one of the more liveable cells in the tower where he would remain until his punishment had been decided. He would never be able to trust the worthless child and so that meant that he would have to have Draco watched closely. He was wilful and would not follow orders easily, and Voldemort mused that he would have to retrieve Lucius from Azkaban; Draco would be more likely to obey if his father were there. The punishment of the family patriarch was acceptable- the death of his wife, the time in Azkaban, and disgrace of his son - and with a few additional bouts of the Cruciatus curse he would feel able to trust the blond again.

The snaky wizard glared at his Death Eaters impatiently and snapped, "Report!"

A lesser servant stepped forward with his whole body bowed in reverence.

"All goes well, my Lord. Nothing of significance has happened on any of the raids."

The former nodded and dismissed them all with a wave of his hand; they filed out fairly quickly and Voldemort was left to ponder the fact that he would have to dish out a little more punishment in order to make sure that they knew their places. The whole lot of them had been growing ever more disrespectful as of late and the matter made his blood boil. He rose and stalked to the circular stairwell that existed between the lobby and hall. It led up to the second floor where his few and most private chambers were. He was halfway there when he realized that he had nothing on his agenda for that day; such a thought brought mild boredom into the forefront of his mind.

For some time now he had been intending to end Severus' punishment, he just hadn't gotten around to instilling the proper understanding of what would happen should he be disobeyed again into Snape's mind. He couldn't very well let him go without being sure the greasy-haired wizard understood the punishment he would receive should he make another mistake.

He redirected himself to where he had ordered Snape to be kept; at a brisk trot he managed to reach the "dungeon" in a decent amount of time. It was strangely comfortable, however, for a place to hold his worst enemies; even the room where the Potions Master had been contained was made from finely worked stone. The man in question looked up as Voldemort entered. He was sporting deadened black eyes that were prepared for the fate that awaited him. Voldemort unhooked the chains from the wall with a yank that pulled on the cuffs which they were attached to and hauled the dejected wizard along as one would a dog while he made his way to the converted chapel on the first floor of the gatehouse.

He had done some _creative_ redecorating since his rediscovery of the castle; most of the rotten pews had been removed although the two best ones had been pushed together. The back was torn out of one of them so as to create a wider surface area to which he could affix a prostrate person to; there were dull chains attached to the pews for that purpose. He had put down a lush carpet over the stone floor, and the walls were littered with several benevolent tapestries as well as a cross hanging.

There were candles in brackets on the walls, and several pleasantly aromatic candles on stands scattered about the room, which created a peaceful atmosphere but for the ravaged statue of the Virgin Mary. Her eyes had been carved out, and the resulting holes painted in so artistically with red that it looked as though they had been gouged out and were dripping blood. An iron collar had been draped about her neck and a chain whip placed in her hand for further emphasis.

Snape shuddered.

The Dark Lord smirked at Snape, with an insane light in his eyes as he gestured for the greasy-haired wizard to have a seat on one of the pews while he walked to the adjacent sacristy. The other wizard clenched his teeth in trepidation, and sat on the pew as bade. He had a fair idea about what was in store for him and he knew that disobedience would only worsen the situation. He had to content himself with the thought that at least he had saved the life of Draco Malfoy; nevertheless, he steeled himself for what was to come.

His Lord returned. The insanity in his face was more apparent than ever and in his arms he clutched in his hand a small, odd shaped object. Snape eyed it with uncertainty, wondering what it was and why Voldemort would keep what looked like a muggle torture implement; he had not seen the Dark Lord use such a tool before.

He smirked, and said, "It was an idea I got from Dumbledore, actually. He was always insisting about how muggles and mudbloods had some measure of worth, so I decided to indulge him and see what value they might hold, and look what I found!"

He held up a strange sort of contraption, with intricate designs, which was shaped like a pear.

"The muggles call it the "Pear of Anguish"; I believe that is meant to be inserted into one of the three bodily orifices, and look what it does!"

The Potions Master gave it a look of unbridled horror as the other wizard twisted the screw at the top, which separated along four "leaves" that expanded rather far. The Dark Lord laughed darkly at the look on the hook-nosed face before him.

"It is considered to be a hideously cruel device; most muggles have not the stomach to use it, but I can assure you that I _do_. I find that, although the Cruciatus has the potential for more pain; it is too widespread and impersonal... I would prefer more... localized methods. With insanity as a side-effect- it is rendered unhelpful for long term usage and... enjoyment."

The former teacher gritted his teeth again, and understood now what was coming to him. He could only hope that his Lord would have pity on him and not drag it out too long, and kill him soon after.

The serpentine wizard laughed again.

"Worry not, Severus. I have decided I may have use for you yet; consider yourself blessed that I have decided to be most merciful. Your punishment is far from over, but I will not be ruining you or torturing you into death... these tools are reserved for traitors, my... worst enemies, and information gathering only. Of course, should you disobey me _again_...you can consider this your fate."

He ended his speech with a pointed look; Snape finally understood then why Voldemort had brought him here - as a warning. He knew it was a mistake to open his mouth but he did so regardless, and said,

"My Lord, if I may be so bold…why do you have a chapel?"

The other man chuckled darkly.

"I had so hoped you would ask that. Do you know what this muggle statue stands for?"

"Yes, my Lord." Snape duly replied as he stared at the mutilated statue of the Virgin Mary that was decorated with torture implements.

"Do you not think it fitting that, whatever mudbloods or mudblood lovers I need to interrogate, will all be faced with this visage when I am gathering information?"

His prisoner had to concede to that point. The figure certainly did the job; even to him, in fact, because despite that he had been raised a wizard, the sight was intimidating.

"Yes, my Lord, it is. As ever, you remain an ingenious and masterful wizard."

A spidery hand twitched towards a pocket as red eyes narrowed; Snape rapidly amended himself.

"The _most_ masterful."

The Dark Lord nodded and returned to adjoining sacristy. He replaced the _Pear of Anguish_ to the space on the shelf where it belonged neatly between the Noise Maker's Fife and temporarily shrunken pendulum device. On his return he sat down on the pew beside his prisoner as though nothing in the world were out of place; Snape sometimes wondered if that was the only purpose that Voldemort had to his behaviourisms -to put on a facade of absolute sadistic insanity to merely manipulate those around him into fearing him all the more.

A particularly piercing look was shot his way and the greasy man knew that his mind had been read. He had the grace not to blush.

"I have something I believe I will require you to do; as soon as I retrieve Lucius, he will take over your easier potion-making duties, so that will leave you more time to take on this task. I want you to break in the Malfoy boy. He does not follow orders and if he cannot behave properly then he is of no use to me. Am I understood?"

Black eyes widened and he nodded with utter understanding. The snake like wizard wanted him to dominate young Draco, to whose pride as well as Lucius' would be a horrific blow; Snape found the thought oddly appealing none the less as Voldemort smirked at the expression on the sallow face.

The latter could tell that the younger man would enjoy his appointed task; although the Potions Master _had_ disobeyed him, he could hardly go about killing him. The Malfoy patriarch was adept at handling most potions but Snape had far more expertise, particularly with anything unusual, rare, or illegal.

He thus decided it was about time to let Snape off his punishment; such a light warning would have to do as Voldemort walked over and waved his wand so that the bonds holding the other wizard fell away in a wordless pool.

**TBC...**

**-----------------------------------------------------**

**After Notes -**

**Odd cut off point, I know. Really sorry that this chapter is so short, I have had a lot going on and it's been difficult to write. Apols for any errors. **

**A ****sacristy**** is a room for keeping vestments(such as the cassock and chasuble) and other church furnishings, **_**sacred vessels**_**, and **_**church treasures**_**. The sacristy is usually located inside the church, but it could be an annex or separate building (as in some monasteries). --Excerpted from Wikipedia.**

**The ****room plan for the castle was taken from a nearby contemporary, Warkworth but the castle itself is Dunstanburgh. **

**So, in this chapter I based my characterization of Voldemort on the conversation between Bellatrix, Narcissa, and Severus; also on the graveyard scene, and Atrium battle with Dumbledore. The impression I got is that he is semi-forgiving, in that he will punish his Death Eaters but not kill all of them off - he does need them, after all; he thinks of a quick death as merciful while at the same time thinking it's the ultimate punishment. Hopefully I did an acceptable job, but let me know if anything's off and I will try to fix it.**

**As for the whole chapel thing, I just had to add that in, I think he'd have a dark sense of humor like that, or at least it's possible that he could. To any offended catholics/christians: I mean no offense, though I don't ascribe to your faith I appreciate your conviction. If you wonder why a wizard would have a chapel, keep in mind that a decent amount of stories/games depict vampire's castles as having chapels, and well, they're **_**vampires.**_** Voldemort having a chapel for a torture chamber is hardly more implausible than that.**

**Thank you to those who've reviewed. Especially Kakeru-Chibi, who reviewed the first posting of this chapter and pointed out an error. Also I changed the direction of this chapter a bit... I had a change of mind...**


	3. Chapter 3

**IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE!!**

I am changing the direction of this fic slightly in light of the Seventh book. Despite my best attempts this is now AU and it follows canon only up until the sixth book. And I am well aware my ideas pale in comparison to the seventh book. 

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and I am making no money off this work of fan fiction.**

**Beta: DarkAngel35, MaddevilleChilde.**

**(Paradigm : Chapter Two)**

**A**fter watching around twenty minutes of some dull soap opera program, Harry silently got up and padded into the kitchen where Hermione was now flipping the pancakes, half a plate of which were already finished and laid out. He grabbed a plate for himself and nicked a few off the top before he spun around and headed for the stairs. As much as he hated to admit it, even to himself, he seemed to be drifting farther and farther away from his two friends as of late.

It was mostly Ron who was creating a dent in their friendship, however, as he seemed to grow angry any time Harry was in the same room as Hermione. With Hermione's recent moods, it even made getting along with her fairly touch-and-go.

A grating voice rang out as he reached the base of the stairs, "And where do you think you're going??"

Harry sighed in exasperation as he replied, "To my room. I'm going to do some research, I think you might have been onto something last night and I'm going to give it another look-over."

Hermioned eyed him suspiciously, "Well, alright, just so long as you aren't going there to sulk again."

The green-eyed Gryffindor gave her a frustrated look and bit out, "That isn't _all_ I do, you know," before he turned his back and continued up the stairs and past the landing into his room, where he shut the door with rather more force than was necessary.

Harry threw himself onto his bed the moment he got inside, and closed his eyes as he took intermittent bites from one of the pancakes that he had rolled up in order to eat it plain. It wasn't as though he didn't like his friends anymore, but it was infuriating to be constantly bickering with one or both of them. Not to mention painful - the arguments only bothered him so much because he did care about them, and he just wished they could stop fighting. It had gotten to the point where sometimes, in the very back of his mind where his worst thoughts usually laid, he entertained the thought of ending their friendship just so that they would no longer be at each other's throats.

He glanced over at Hedwig's open cage, which had a discarded pair of muggle pants thrown over it. She wasn't inside, and so Harry assumed she must have gone out again to stretch her wings. He set his half eaten pancake back down on the plate which was atop a mountain of books that were piled on his dresser, and walked over to check her food trays. Her water dish was mostly empty, so he snatched up the bottle of water he kept nearby and refilled that. Her food dish was still half-full so he left that alone, since she often fed herself by hunting. She rarely had any interest in the food he bought her except on nights she didn't feel like going out, which were usually cold winter nights.

He scattered a few owl treats atop the food in case she felt like a snack, and walked back over to sit on the edge of his bed. He stared balefully at the piled books, knowing full well that he had no intention of doing any research for the Horcruxes. Recently, he'd been having his doubts as to whether he could really do this anymore. Not even Dumbledore had managed to get away from trying to destroy one Horcrux alive; how was he supposed to get to all the rest of them, _and_ kill Voldemort?

Reality had been weighing heavily on him since the Headmaster's demise, which in the end had been for nothing as the Horcrux hadn't even been there. So many people had died already in his confrontations with Voldemort. His parents, Cedric, Sirius... and now Dumbledore. His parents had been two highly trained Order members, Cedric had been at Harry's current skill level, roughly; Sirius had been a skilled wizard, and Dumbledore was probably more powerful than all of them combined. If they had all fallen so easily to Voldemort, how could he possibly hope for even a chance at defeating such a powerful and dark wizard?

It just seemed entirely hopeless to him at this point, and the mere thought of his 'destiny' was so overwhelming that he didn't even know where to _start._Oh sure, it sounded easy in theory; pick a Horcrux, find the location, destroy it, move on. But in truth, it left him completely blown away. He felt as though he was drowning under the sheer weight of the tasks before him, not to mention the knowledge that failure is death. It was either him or Voldemort, and honestly, he fully expected it was him who would die.

Harry reached a hand up and ran it through his unruly strands, which he hadn't bothered to cut in awhile. His hair had grown out just long enough that it could be pulled into a very small ponytail if he wanted, though a few short pieces always managed to slip out and frame his face. He'd noticed that Hermione often stared at him when he had his hair like that, and hadn't missed Ron's jealous scowls, either.

He also had considered looking up an eyesight charm recently so that he would be without the handicap of glasses in a future battle. They could prove too much of a hindrance in the future; should they fall off or be smashed he would be at a severe disadvantage. Despite his bleak outlook on whether or not he would be successful in defeating Voldemort and destroying the Horcruxes, there was still the part of him that wanted to be prepared. The part of him that was dedicated to his survival.

As he glanced around the room his eyes landed on the multiple piles of clothes scattered about, and mused that he ought to do his laundry before Hermione had another fit, did it herself, and then complained about having done it. It wasn't as if he wouldn't have gotten to it in his own time, but saying that to her would only provoke an even worse fight. He had a lot more clothes, now that she had specifically gone out and bought him some, saying that he no longer had any excuse for wearing his cousin's dreadful hand-me-down's.

Though he was slightly annoyed that she'd gone and done that without even asking him, he did appreciate having clothes that actually fit a lot more than he had thought he would. He'd never been especially concerned about his appearance in the past, but he found that recently it had started to matter more to him. Harry supposed it was probably just a part of getting older; in the wizarding world he was now considered an adult after all so he was likely just maturing, as most did when reaching his age. Not that he held any illusions about himself being a fully-mature adult - he was well aware that he was a far cry from it, but at least he was making some progress from the child that he had been.

He glanced up when he heard a rapping at the door, and froze momentarily when he heard the door open - hadn't he warned Ron about not answering the door? Harry walked quickly over to the door and opened it, walking quietly out of his room as he listened for any signs of an attack. His tense muscles relaxed when he heard the voices conversing amicably, and recognized the rough grating of Aberforth Dumbledore. It had been a surprise when he had come to them shortly after the Headmaster's death, informing them that Albus' demise had been planned. He was a bit more eccentric than Dumbledore, and slightly less personable but otherwise Aberforth seemed to be a decent fellow. He'd been angry at first of being left out yet again, especially when it was the Headmaster's _life_ that he'd just thrown away but eventually the teen accepted the fact that it was just how Dumbledore was. Harry grimaced when he suddenly heard the dark, acidic tones of his ex-potions professor speak up and mentally groaned at the thought of entertaining the surly man's company. Apparently, according to Aberforth and a painting of Albus which he'd had made before his death, Snape had been under his orders to follow the oath that he'd had no choice but to make.

Harry didn't trust the greasy bat, and never would but Dumbledore's portrait had forced him to _promise_ to try and work with the git and understand that it had been necessary. He didn't understand, but he would stay his hand - that is, until Snape stepped so much as a toe out of line. And then he would make the bastard regret that he'd ever lived. Harry did wonder why exactly Snape was here now, as he'd been suspiciously absent lately. No one had seen hide nor hair of him since he disappeared, and with that thought in mind, Harry ran down the stairs into the entryway to see what was going on.

The sight he was greeted with was somewhat surprising; Snape appeared to be having trouble standing, and it looked at though he might be bleeding. Disregarding his obvious dislike of the wizard, Harry rushed over to his side and helped the bast--_ other wizard_ into the living room and guided Snape to sit down on the couch. He gazed at the bloodied wizard with hardened eyes.

"Where have you been?" Harry bit out.

"Harry!" Admonished Hermione over his rudeness, and Aberforth made a disapproving noise.

Snape sneered and bit out, "I don't suppose I should expect you to exhibit manners or common courtest, Potter, but I should have hoped you'd display at least_ some_ brains by now - An obviously vain and deluded idea, it seems. Do you really think the Dark Lord would let me off so easily after disobeying his orders?"

Harry glared and pursed his lips, counting to ten in his head before he spoke again in a shaky, bitter voice, "So that's why you're in this state."

"Of course it is, you imbecile," Snape replied irritably as usual.

Aberforth, meanwhile, had gone over to the fireplace and was fire calling Madame Pomphrey to come and tend to the obsidian-eyed wizard's injuries. Since Harry had moved into his parents old home, certain order members, along with Pomphrey, had been made aware in case of emergency. It wasn't long before the elderly witch was making her way out of the fireplace with blood-replenishing and other potions in hand as she hurriedly bustled over to where Snape sat scowling.

Harry smirked as she poked and prodded the irate with her wand, casting diagnostic spells as well as healing ones, and forced potions down his throat while she interrogated him on how he acquired his injuries.

"It is hardly any of your business!" The irate ex-professor replied, "Just finish your job and be done with it! I have important business to attend to."

Harry arched an eyebrow, "And what business is that?"

"Certainly not yours, brat. That is between Albus' portrait and me. If it is necessary for you to know, then you will be informed," Snape said caustically. "Severus," warned Aberforth in a chiding voice, "You know my brother would disapprove of this behavior. Whatever you need to tell Albus, you can tell me and Harry just as easily." Snape glared at Aberforth, but proceeded with his report, knowing that Dumbledore had chosen Aberforth as his replacement. Though slightly less moralistic than Albus, he was still nearly as capable as his brother.

"I have come upon the location of two more Horcruxes. During my... _stay_, I overheard Voldemort instructing Bellatrix to retrieve them within a few days time, so we will have to move quickly. One of them is located beneath the Orphanage, in a location that I will have to be present at for you to pass through. There is an enchantment on a hidden door that makes it so that only a Death Eater who knows it's location will be able to open it," Snape sneered, "And as much as I disapprove of the action, Albus has instructed me to bring Potter."

Harry perked up at this, his heart thudding in his chest at the thought of pursuing another Horcrux, when he'd so recently been musing on the impossibility of it all. Aberforth's expression had grown grim, Harry noted, and Albus' brother spoke up,

"Then we have no choice but to go. We can't risk losing the chance to destroy a Horcrux. Severus, will you be able to go?"

"Of course," Snape said, "We should leave immediately."

Aberforth nodded, and said, "Excellent. Let's get moving, Potter. Grab your invisibility cloak, make sure you have your wand and meet Snape and myself back down here."

Ron called out in a tone slightly higher than normal volume, "You're not going without me!"

Snape sneered, and said, "And what are you going to do, get your wand broken and hex yourself to distract any creatures he may have been placed to guard the horcrux?"

Aberforth cut in, "Ron, Hermione, you two are staying here. I don't want to hear anything more from you. Stay upstairs, keep the doors and windows firmly locked. Don't answer the Floo or door for anyone. If it's us, we'll let ourselves in. Anything suspicious happens, make for the fire and Floo to Grimmauld. Understood?"

Ron looked like he was about to argue, but Hermione clapped a hand over his mouth and said, "Yes, sir. I'll make sure he behaves," before she dragged him up the stairs and into a room, where shouts from the enraged red-head could be heard. Harry followed them and retrieved his cloak and wand, avoiding Ron who tried to grab him on his way out so he could try and convince Harry to let him come under the invisibility cloak. Harry quickly made his way back downstairs, and shuffled up to Aberforth.

"Well, let's get going, then." Aberforth said.

"Er, I can't apparate," Harry said, to which Aberforth stared at him, and Snape sneered at his incompetence, "I failed my apparition test..."

"Oh, very well, boy," huffed Aberforth, "Come along now, I'll side-along apparate you."

Harry walked up to Aberforth, and the aged wizard nodded at Snape before pulling him along as he apparated to the Orphanage. Harry did his best to ignore the unpleasant rubber-tube sensation of the transition, and breathed a sigh of relief when they appeared outside the run-down shack. Snape popped into existence next to them moments later, and Aberforth wordlessly started to the front door, the other two following silently behind.

The door opened with a simple_ Alohomora_, and Snape pushed in front of Aberforth as he led the way inside, making straight for the door to the basement. Once they reached the bottom, Snape looked around until his eyes fixed on a spot near the leftmost corner, where he stalked over to and crouched down over. He pulled out his wand and pressed it to his hand, muttering a spell to cut the skin open. Dipping the end of his wand into the blood, he carved a rune onto the smooth surface, which within moments flickered and then revealed a doorway in the floor.

The greasy haired wizard eased it open, and motioned for them both to follow him, and Harry did so still without speaking. This place gave him an odd chill down his spine. As he eased himself through the door he planted his feet on a staircase that led to an underground chamber of some sort that could have passed as a catacomb. Aberforth followed closely behind him, wand drawn. Harry jumped as the trap-door swung shut behind them.

Harry glanced around at the circular room which was very dark, and managed not to flinch as suddenly torches flared into existence along the walls, one at a time. The room was plain, but for what appeared to be a nondescript coffin in the center of the room. Harry walked over to it, and Aberforth called out, "Careful, Potter! Don't take another step!" And the green-eyed wizard froze in his tracks.

"Once again, Potter, your stupidity never ceases to astound me," Snape's voice could be heard saying.

Aberforth walked forward with his wand out, muttering spells under his breath.

"Alright, there's no proximity spells," he said, and Harry's form relaxed, and not thinking, he continued forward and walked up the the coffin.

As he got close, the lid suddenly flew off, and Harry couldn't contain a cry of surprise as he saw himself within, pale and rotting in death. He screeched as his dead look-alike opened it's eyes and stared directly at him.

Aberforth rushed forward and called out, "When did I say you could move, foolish boy?!"

He huffed as he neared the casket, and the image changed into a likeness of Aberforth. The creature or whatever it was reached out it's hand towards Aberforth, a blank expression on it's face.

Snape stalked forward, and cast a disillusionment charm but the ghostly image remained and now switched between his image, Aberforth, and Harry's remained there proving that it was not a mere illusion. Snape then noticed that something along the inside of the lid glittered, and hesitantly reached forward to grasp it. It was what appeared to be a diamond, and Aberforth's eyes widened greedily before he reached out to grasp it.

"Well, no need to leave that here!" Said the aged wizard.

"No!" Snape bellowed, as he snatched it back and deposited it into the creature's hand. It gave a strange moan, and the lid swung close over it, while at the same time a door appeared across from them. Aberforth cleared his throat and walked forward a bit quickly, and oddly enough Snape and Harry traded a look behind the old wizard's back. It seemed they could at least agree on something; Aberforth was_ no_ Albus.

Harry followed Snape into the room, and his eyes widened as he glanced at the surroundings. It appeared to be a small, comfortable sitting room; the kind that you would expect to see in a homey cottage located somewhere around Coniston village(1). There was a fireplace with a small fire crackling in the grate directly across from the door, and across the mantle piece were several tasteful knick-knacks. There was a couch and two arm chairs, a glass coffee table, and a curio cabinet scattered around the room.

The curio cabinet was made of glass, mirror, and black wood with fancy designs etched into it. There were sculptures of glass, ivory, and gold inside, of which some were set with diamonds and other precious stones. There were both cloth and regular tapestries along three of the walls, and the other wall had a large,beautiful mural of a forest with a intricately painted elf maiden riding a unicorn in the center. Lush white carpets covered the floor, which contrasted elegantly with the blue tones that the walls were painted in.

Completing the look, there was what looked to be a beautiful golden leopard asleep in front of the fireplace. If one was to look close enough, strange sparkles seems to surround the leopard, as though there were glitter spread all around it. Snape and Aberforth stood frozen in horror in the doorway, but Harry didn't notice as he walked forward to inspect the room and get a closer look at the leopard. As he moved nearer to the fireplace, he noticed that the cup sat in the center of the mantelpiece.

"Harry, don't!" Yelled Snape.

He looked back at his ex-professor and scrunched his nose as he replied, "Why? It's just a leopard..."

Aberforth rushed forward and pushed the teen out of the way, huffing out,"That's no leopard, it's a Nundu! Honestly, boy!"

Harry looked confused as he asked, "What's a Nundu?"

Snape glared as he answered dryly, "An extremely dangerous magical creature that could kill us all within moments, Potter."

"...oh." Harry said, and then fell silent as Aberforth cast spell after spell, trying to figure out how to get the cup down.

After about fourty minutes, Harry'd had enough as he said, "It's been sleeping this long, if it was going to wake up then it would have." 

Snape said nothing as Aberforth turned back to stare at the green eyed wizard.

"I haven't been able to locate a single spell on it, I have no idea what to do," the old wizard admitted dolefully.

Snape grit his teeth, and Harry sighed in frustration.

"Fine," Harry said, "There's no spells on it, then this shouldn't be a problem."

Snape watched, feeling detached, as Harry's shot a Severing Charm at the cup.There was an odd clattering sound as the cup flew off the mantle onto the floor unbroken, and the door to the room flew shut suddenly. The fire roared up in the grate, and the sparkles around the Nundu disappeared as the creature woke up with a roar. Harry backed up into the wall as it blinked it's eyes open, and Aberforth immediately started casting spells at it.

"Fool!" roared Snape, "You incompetent imbecile!"

Harry shrunk back as the Nundu prepared to breathe out onto them, and reacting quickly, he shot a wind spell to deflect it's breath, while at the same time that Aberforth shot a freezing spell. The two spells combined to create a freezing wind that turned it's breath to ice and blew the poisoned shards back at it. Snape cast a bone-breaking hex that it dodged, while Aberforth ran back to work on getting the door opened. Harry watched in horror as Snape continued holding it off, and the teen managed to keep his shaking hands steady enough to aim spells at the thing while the greasy haired wizard distracted it.

Finally, Harry heard Aberforth give a cry of victory, and Harry blasted the Nundu with a Banishing Charm that sent it flying across the room. Snape ran over to them, and Aberforth motioned them both through the door quickly as the Nundu regained it's footing and ran after them. They got to the stairs by the time it caught up to them, and Aberforth reapplied the blood rune to open the trap door while Snape and Harry once again held the Nundu off. It managed to get several nasty scratches in on Snape, and the Death Eater spy fell down after a particularly vicious swipe.

Harry then cast Diffindo at it in desperation, causing it to whirl around and run at him. It dodged the curse and sucked in a breath, and Harry managed to jump out of the way of it's breath just in time and cast a quick air-clearing charm where it had breathed. Snape got back up and managed to level a Incendio at the Nundu, which reared back and screeched as it was hit. The greasy haired wizard seized Harry's shoulder roughly and yanked him up, pulling him over to the stairs.

Harry cursed when he realized they'd left the Horcrux, and freed himself from Snape's grasp before running back and retrieving it from the floor of the sitting room. As he ran back out toward the stairs the Nundu lunged at him, gashing his side before he viciously hit it over the head with the cup and sprinted the rest of the way to the stairs and out the trap door that Aberforth was holding open. They slammed it shut just in time on the Nundu, the sounds of it roaring in fury and agony while scratching at the door filtering through.

Harry collapsed outside the room, and as he set the cup down on the dirty basement floor he immediately cast a Reducto on it, much to Snape and Aberforth's chagrin. Harry stiffened when a strange glow emanated from the Horcrux as it was destroyed, and something seemed to flow into him. He wasn't the only one to notice the odd occurrence, as both Snape and Aberforth stared at him apprehensively. He suddenly sagged forward and Aberforth rushed forward to catch him, and the last thing he was aware of was being apparated away and levitated onto a soft surface before blackness overtook him.

**TBC...**

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**After notes -**

I've decided I'm not making Neville the boy-who-lived. I'm going with the Dumbledore faked the prophecy angle. I'm ignoring the Seventh book as that will complicate things far too much. 


End file.
